A Split-Second Decision
by Noelle McHenry
Summary: After the sudden death of Snow White, Bigby Wolf finds himself trapped within a web of manipulation and treachery, with only a single ray of hope... The Woodsman. Spoilers for TWAU from Ch. 3 onwards.
1. The Trip-Trap

It came down to a split-second decision.

It's always a split-second decision for Sheriff Bigby Wolf. It's always a split-second decision, and Bigby always kicks himself after he makes it, thinking a different option would have been better.

It had been a split-second decision to rush to Toad's aid when he called. Because of that decision, Prince Lawrence was now dead.

The next decision came in the Trip Trap bar.

Bigby walked into the bar. Almost instantaneously, Holly, owner of the bar, stopped in her tracks and gawked at him as though she were shocked that he even had the gall to step into her bar.

Sitting on a barstool on the opposite side of where Holly stood, glaring contemptfully at the new arrival, was Gren.

"What do you want, Sheriff." Holly growled.

Bigby looked her in the eyes, but said nothing. For a moment, all was silent.

"Okay, so I guess I'm not worthy enough to get a response."

"You know why I'm here, Holly." Bigby responded as he walked further into the bar.

A few denials and hollow threats later, and a spell of silence was broken by the flushing of a toilet in the washroom. Bigby watched the look of anxious horror on Holly's face, and chose to ignore Gren, who was shaking his head and snickering quietly to himself.

A few moments later, and out of the washroom came The Woodsman. "Holly, you're out of paper towels in theeeee..." He trailed off, holding the /e/ sound, when he noticed Bigby sitting beside Gren.

Bigby feigned a friendly smile after their eyes had stayed locked for a few seconds.

With a heavy sign, Woodsman broke eye contact with Bigby, at which point the sheriff stopped smiling, and sat down on his stool. He picked up his drink and lift it to take a swig.

"I saved your drink for you," Bigby spoke up suddenly, "Holly wanted to clear it, but I said, naah, he'll be back. And here you are..."

In response to this remark, Holly sneered viciously at the Big Bad Wolf sitting before her.

Woodsman sighed again and set his cup down. "Look, Wolf, we've been fighting for hundreds of years. I'm sick of fighting." He mumbled honestly, and then he lift his glass again and took a long, quiet sip. Out of the corner of his eye, he could almost make out Bigby's brow furrowing a little. He almost looked saddened for a moment, and then he said in a sincere tone Woodsman had not yet heard,

"Well, Woody, that makes two of us." The Sheriff then looked at Gren as he stood, saying, "You're in luck. I've decided to switch seats."

As he moved to step closer to Woodsman, Bigby was suddenly held back by an hand on his chest; Gren was shoving him back, and he slowly turned around to face him. It was clear that he was willing to fight.

It was Bigby's turn to sigh. "Come on, I just want to talk. It doesn't have to go this way."

"And what if he doesn't wanna talk?" Gren asked menacingly.

"It's alright, Gren," Woodsman spoke up, albeit reluctantly, "I'll talk..."

With one last shove, Gren released Bigby and swiftly removed his nose from their business, continuing to slouch over his drink.

Bigby quietly sat down on the stool next to Woodsman.

"I used to be the hero. Now I'm the bad guy, and you're the fuckin' Sheriff." Woodsman grumbled to himself.

"You know why I'm here, Woodsman."

"Yeah, yeah. You wanna know what happened."

"That would be helpful, yes."

Woodsman raised and shook his head before he spoke. "It's amazing; the shit people do for money... She didn't look like it, but she had money, I knew she did. I was gonna rob her. And then the one goddamned day I finally work up the fuckin' nerve to do it, and there you are, laying in the bed..."

"What is it that you're talking about, exactly?" Bigby demanded, his patience beginning to run thin.

"Red Riding Hood. I was going to rob her. I only saved her from you because I thought she would reward me, but she didn't give me a goddamned thing."

Hearing this, an uncertain look appeared on Bigby's face. "Whatever." He mumbled, "It's in the past. But we need to talk about the present now, Woodsman. Did you kill Faith?"

Woodsman looked over at Bigby. "What, _Faith?_ Who's th-"

"You beat her up yesterday. You know, it looks pretty fuckin' bad when the girl you were seen beating on is found dead not too long after!"

Woodsman's eyes widened, panic visible in them as clear as day. As he stammered, he turned his whole body towards the Sheriff. "What...? No, no, no no no no, Bigby, I didn't kill her, I swear! I'm a piece of shit, I know that, and I hit her, yeah, but I swear to God that I didn't kill her! I was _here_; please, Bigby, you've gotta believe me!"

Before Bigby could respond to Woodsman's pleas, Gren put down his glass loud enough to gain his attention.

"He was here," He said, "That's the fuckin' truth, Sheriff."

"You see? Please, Bigby... If you've never believed me before, then please, just believe me just this once!"

Bigby, with a piteous smirk on his face, closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. A second or two later, he raised his head again and opened his brown eyes, looking right at Woodsman. "I wish I could..."

Gren, who had raised his glass again, heard this, and he responded by slamming his glass back down and standing up.

Woodsman also stood up, and for a second, Bigby thought he was going to bolt.

"Stop, Gren!" Woodsman shouted, taking a defensive stance behind Bigby, though his intention was to defend _him_. "He's been through enough."

Bigby turned his head around and looked at Woodsman, who immediately seemed to become flustered.

"_I've_ been through enough. I don't want _this_ on my shoulders too. First Riding Hood, then that prostitute... Not Bigby."

"I don't give a shit what you want and don't want! This fucker needs to pay! The only reason he's even here is because the rich fucks over at the Woodlands need some sort of fuckin' closure that we don't get!"

Bigby whipped his head around to stare at Gren. "It's _not_ like that, okay?! I know the system's got problems, but that's not something I like, and it's not something that I can change!"

"Holly's sister goes missing, and what the fuck do we get? Paperwork, forms, and that fuckin' bitch Snow White looks right past us!"

Bigby stood up. "I wouldn't call her that if I were you. It's happened before, and it didn't end well." He threatened.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were the bitch of the bitch."

Woodsman watched Bigby's fist as it curled up and trembled. He honestly expected the Sheriff to hit Gren across the face, but instead, he watched as Bigby seemed to shrug it off and calm down. Strange.

A green light swallowed the room for a moment, and when it cleared, Gren had transformed out of his Glamour.

"Great," Bigby muttered, rolling his eyes, "Cut it out. You're scaring the lady."

"Don't worry about me." Holly replied as she also transformed out of her Glamour.

Before Bigby could do so much as step back, Gren hit him with a stool, throwing him backwards. He would've stumbled into Woodsman if the Fable hadn't stepped back.

After about sixty-ish seconds of Bigby being whipped across the room and Woodsman helplessly watching, Gren dragged a seemingly-unconscious Bigby by the legs across the floor. The sound of something sharp digging into the floor caught Holly's attention, and all three of them looked over to discover that Bigby was half transformed, and he had dug his dark claws into the floorboards.

Seeing as he could no longer easily drag the Fable across the floor, Gren opted instead to whip him across the room. Bigby's back hit the wall beside Woodsman, who had been quietly inching his way toward the restroom during the whole fight, and shortly after, he stood, snarling.

When Bigby turned his head and body to face Gren, it was as though he was incapable of seeing anyone but his attacker.

"_Wolf,_" Woodsman whispered; he had meant to shout it, but he couldn't find his voice as he stared at the killing machine that stood before him, ready to pounce.

Only a minute later, and the tables had turned. Gren lay on the ground, broken and wounded, surrendering, but Bigby wasn't finished.

"He's had enough!" Woodsman shouted, finally finding his voice, despite the fact that it fell on deaf ears.

It came down to a split-second decision.

Bigby raised his arm above his head. Woodsman cringed, expecting to hear the sickening sounds of whatever Bigby would do, but instead, heard nothing for a few agonizingly long seconds. When he finally did look, he saw Bigby tear his eyes, his golden eyes filled with hunger and a lust for bloodshed, away from Gren's shuddering form and storm over to the bar, which he gripped so tightly that his claws dug into its surface. When he shot his head up and looked at Holly with his dark-rimmed, sunken gold eyes, she flinched in fear.

"**Whiskey,**" He growled.

Shakily, she got him a shot glass, which he immediately hurled across the room to shatter on the wall.

"_**Double.**_"

Silently, Holly reached back under the bar and got him a bigger glass, which she then filled with the remainder of whiskey in the bottle.

Before she finished pouring, Bigby, who was now looking down at the floor between his feet, said, "**Two.**"

After a brief pause, Holly got him another glass, opened a new bottle of whiskey, and poured him another two shots-worth.

Bigby looked over at Woodsman, making the bearded Fable jolt a bit. The wolf then grabbed the second glass carefully, looked down at it, then back at Woodsman. With a carefully calculated shove, he slid the glass across the bar.

Confused, Woodsman looked at his rival, who stared at him expectantly.

The Big Bad Wolf was offering to share with The Woodsman? For a moment, Holly wondered if she had perhaps slipped into the Twilight Zone somehow.

Cautiously, Woodsman stepped closer to the bar and picked up the glass. He took a swig, keeping an eye on Bigby in case he tried anything funny.

Instead, Bigby simply lift his own glass. Two chugs later, and Bigby put the glass down, back to normal. He opened his eyes, which had reverted back to brown, and he looked up at Holly.

"Send in a damage report to the Woodlands' offices. Fabletown will pay for this. Put the drink on there too. Both drinks. ... And the glass." He said.

Holly kept her mouth shut, so Bigby instead turned his head and looked at Woodsman again.

"Is that the kind of treatment I can expect if I let you take me in?" Woodsman asked, referring to Gren, who now seemed to have blacked out.

Bigby glanced shamefully at Gren for just a moment. "No," He replied truthfully. "If you surrender without a fight, you'd be treated with respect."

Before Woodsman could make a comment about the whiskey, Tweedle Dee, blood on his shirt, waltzed in. Unwrapping a lollipop, he began, "Alright, a hundred bucks to the first bloke who can tell me anything about a girl named..." He stopped, however, because he saw Gren. When he saw Bigby, he muttered, "Oh, shit."

Woodsman was the first to bolt. When Bigby turned to look at him, Tweedle Dee also turned to run.

Bigby roared.

It came down to a split-second decision.

Woodsman made it about three steps, and he was then thrown into the wall, pinned there by Bigby.

"I thought I'd be treated with respect," Woodsman complained.

"I thought you wouldn't run," Bigby mocked.

"That fucker was covered in blood, and you let him go?"

"Shut your mouth. You're under arrest."

* * *

Now, Bigby Wolf walks down the street, escorting The Woodsman to The Woodlands. They're both surprisingly quiet, at least until the sight of police cars surrounding the building catches Bigby's eye.

"What the hell...?" He grumbles. Woodsman says nothing in response, so Bigby promptly reveals a new pair of handcuffs to handcuff the handcuffs he wears to a lamppost.

"What the- _Wolf!_"

"Stay here. I'll be able to tell if you try anything stupid. I'm just going to go see what all the ruckus is about." Before Woodsman can reply, he leaves earshot.

"Stupid fuckin' asshole." Woodsman grumbles anyway.

Bigby pushes his way through the crowd as Woodsman curiously watches from his lorn lamppost. No one has time to stop him as he pushes through the crowd and sees what lays upon the steps.

His eyes widen.

It came down to a split-second decision. He could have taken Snow along, into the Trip Trap. He could've... but he didn't, because he made the wrong fucking decision. Again.

Story of his life.

Woodsman watches as Bigby collapses to his knees in front of the stairs, and he wonders for a moment what the Sheriff has seen that's suddenly destroyed some innocent part of him. A few minutes later, and Bigby is storming over, his head down.

He yanks Woodsman to his feet, as the Fable had opted to sit down, and snarls at him, "_Get up._"

"What'd you see, Wolf?"

"_Shut up._"

A couple seconds later, and Woodsman's handcuffs clatter to the ground. Bigby points in the opposite direction of the Woodlands.

"_Go._"

"What? You're letting me go?"

"You were there at the Trip Trap before I got there. You couldn't have killed Faith, because there was no time for you to kill Sn-..." Bigby chokes on words and presses his fingers against his eyelids for a moment.

Woodsman opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off.

"Just go before I change my mind."

"... Snow White's dead, isn't she?"

Bigby says nothing, which Woodsman takes as a yes.

"Wow... Uh... I..." Woodsman gently rubs the back of his head, still bandaged from an earlier fight.

Bigby keeps his head down. He is obviously quite shaken by the death of his partner and co-worker, and Woodsman is unsure how to react.

"... Wolf, I... I know me saying this might mean jack-shit to you, but... I'm sorry."

For a moment, Bigby says nothing. When he does speak, he only says, "Aren't we all...?"


	2. Interrogations: Who Needs 'Em?

"What were you _thinking,_ Bigby?!"

Bigby Wolf lowers his head, choosing to stare at the hairs on his crossed arms rather than look at the enraged Ichabod Crane, three feet to his right and screaming at him.

"You mean to tell me that you let The Woodsman go on a _whim?!_ Even when you _know_ he may have had important information about what's going on?!" The Deputy Mayor shouts.

"The Woodsman doesn't know shit..." Bigby murmurs bitterly.

"How do you know that?! Jesus, Bigby, you had _one_ job-"

"I _know,_ because Snow's head was _fresh!_" The Sheriff snaps. "That means that she was likely killed while I was _with_ The Woodsman!"

"But what if he had something to do with it, Bigby?! He could have helped _arrange_ her murder!"

Bigby stays silent until he has a response. "Woodsman has no reason to want her dead. There's no motive, and he has an alibi. He has no people with whom he associates that would've been with Snow at the time of her murder!"

"Why on Earth are you defending that lowlife?" A new voice emerges, and both Bigby and Crane look over to see that it belongs to Bluebeard.  
"Last time I checked, you two were enemies. Now you're defending his honor like a wife defends her drunk, abusive husband."

"Don't test me, Bluebeard. Come to think of it, _you're_ my prime suspect!"  
Bigby snarls.

"Me?! I would never!"

"You have a _history_ of _beheading_ young girls!"

"And _you_ have a '_history_' of _eating them!_"

Sheriff Wolf raises his fist to slam it into Bluebeard's face.

"That's enough!" Crane shouts. "Bluebeard, you are going to be my _temporary_ assistant for the time being."

Bigby glares hard at Ichabod, his brown eyes glowing ever-so-faintly golden.

"That's what I like to hear. Thank you, Deputy Mayor." Bluebeard straightens his tie as he makes this remark boastfully.

"_Temporary_ assistant." Crane reminds him, but is ignored.  
"Sheriff Wolf, I want you to go apprehend The Woodsman. Bring him in for questioning."

"Do you really want to waste both your own time and mine? Woodsman doesn't know _anything._"

"I think that's an order, Sheriff." Bluebeard snarkily adds.

Bigby shakes his head and storms over to the Magic Mirror.

"What are you doing?" Crane asks.

"Finding The Woodsman. Do you have a problem with that, '_boss_'?"

Crane crosses his arms over his chest and grimaces. "No. But I might have a problem with your attitude..."

Bigby glares at his boss again, and Crane, being a natural-born coward, looks away and says no more on the matter.

"Hello, Bigby." The mirror says.

"Mirror, mirror, if you're able, tell me all about this Fable."

"The same rhyme as before, I see? Can't bear to think of another one?"

"I don't have time for this shit. I want to get out of this room before I murder someone." As he makes this threat, Bigby glances at Ichabod again for a moment before turning back to the glowing-green mirror. "Show me The Woodsman."

The mirror reveals The Woodsman sitting in his apartment, which is still completely trashed from when he and Bigby fought a day or two earlier.

Bigby can't help but let out a small chuckle as he mutters, "Can't believe Toad let him stay. That guy might just have the biggest heart in relation to his brain yet..."

"Either that or he's in it for the money." The mirror remarks jokingly.

"... Yeah, that probably makes more sense."

Bluebeard approaches. "Have you found that drunk waste of life yet, Sheriff Wolf, or are you too busy looking for a little girl to eat?"

"Fuck off, Bluebeard." With this, Bigby pops a Huff 'n' Puff cigarette into his mouth, lights it casually (whilst being stared at by Crane, who dislikes people smoking in his office), leaves to pay The Woodsman a visit.

* * *

The Woodsman is half-asleep on a worn-out mattress laid over his metal bedframe when someone's hand gently awakens him.

"Hey, Woody..." A voice calmly beckons. "Are you awake?"

Woodsman chuckles a little. Half-asleep, his thought process is determining that from the gentleness of the hand and the voice, it must be a woman waking him up.  
"Hey, baby... What's _yer_ name..."

"My name?" A higher-pitched voice replies. "My name's -" - abruptly, the voice lowers - "- Bigby Wolf."

Woodsman's eyes fly open, and he sees Bigby Wolf standing beside the bed and looking down at him.  
"Alright," He says groggily as he sits up, "I'm awake. Why are you here? Gonna break my jaw again or arrest me, _again_, might I add...?"

Bigby crosses his arms over his chest. "Why don't _you_ tell me?"

"You want to do _both_, but you're only gonna arrest me for the time being?"

"You know me so well. Now get up."

"Why are you arresting me?" Woodsman protests. "You said yourself that I couldn't have been involved."

Bigby frowns, his brow furrowed. "You're going to have to convince our shithead Deputy Mayor of that yourself.  
"I don't want to arrest you, Woody; it's a waste of _everyone's_ time to do so. But they're making me take you in because they don't have any other ideas, I guess."

Woodsman stands up, looking down into Bigby's eyes. "So you're defending them now? I thought you hated them."

"I thought you thought I hated _you_, Woody."

"Do you?"

"Hate's too strong a word." is Bigby's only immediate response.

Woodsman suddenly gently grips Bigby's chin, making him keep his head up to look at him in the eyes, and says with a smirk, "I don't think you hate me. Maybe you hate my axe, but you don't hate me."

"You were somewhat justified." Bigby replied, remaining still.

"Exactly."

"_Somewhat_."

"You don't hate me, Biggs."

"You're drunk."

"Yeah..."

"Come on, make this easy on me, alright? I had a..." Bigby pulls his chin away, averting his gaze. "... a _rough night_, last night... What are you staring at?"

Realizing he's been staring at the Fable in front of him, Woodsman quickly tilts his head. "The toaster." He says as an excuse, as it is on the table across the room.

"Right, yeah, the toaster. Of course."

"I'm making toast."

"You're not."

"How can you tell?"

"You can't fool this nose."

"What else can you smell?"

"Woodsman, this isn't a little chat we're having here. I'm arresting you."

"Your point?"

Bigby pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket. "Just turn around and let me put these on so I don't have to hurt you."

"You look_ tired_, Bigby. _Really_ tired."

"Would you just turn around already?" Bigby snaps, beginning to lose his patience.

"Alright, alright, geez. I'm just worried about you, is that so wrong?" Woodsman asks as he turns around, not bothering to resist arrest, as he is still aching from the beating he had received from Bigby two days prior.

"I think you just answered your own question." is Bigby's reply as he begins putting the handcuffs onto The Woodsman's wrists.

* * *

Woodsman cringes in pain when Bluebeard does up his wrist restraints too tightly.  
"Christ, could you maybe loosen these a bit? I'm not going anywhere."

"I genuinely hope that you don't think I'm that stupid." Bluebeard responds, crossing his arms.

Woodsman lets out an exasperated sigh. "Where's Bigby? Why isn't he here right now to question me?"

"Who knows? Your only concern is whether or not he shows up before the Deputy Mayor."

"And why's that my concern?"

"Because if he doesn't show up by then, I'll question you myself, and things will be a lot less fun for you." As he says this, Bluebeard reveals a curved knife.

* * *

Colin, the first little pig of the fairy tales, welcomes himself into Bigby Wolf's apartment, as per norm. As he does, however, he hears something unusual, and takes a few clomping steps forward to look into the kitchen.

In front of the sink stands Bigby. His head his down, his eyes clenched shut as tightly as his whitening hands are around the edges of the kitchen sink.

"Bigby, what are you doing?" Colin asks casually.

Bigby's eyes fly open, and he quickly looks over at the pig. "Colin, what the hell? I thought you went back to the Farm!"

Colin furrows his brow. "... Wait. Dude, are you crying?"

Bigby frowns and slumps against the kitchen sink.

"Wow, man. I mean, just think about it. The nefarious Big Bad Wolf, standing in his kitchen, slumped against his fridge, crying like a little b-"

"Watch your mouth, Colin."

"Right, sorry, forgot you don't like that word."

Bigby quietly gazes at the pig in front of him. "... Do I look tired?"

"What?"

"Woodsman told me I look tired."

"Well, he certainly wasn't lying to you; you look like shit, Bigby. Maybe you should just... rest, or whatever it is that you do."

Bigby straightens himself. "I'm not resting. Besides, I have work to do."

"Do you _feel_ tired, Bigby? Or do wolves not feel fatigue?" Colin asks sarcastically.

"I don't know if I feel anything right now."

For a long moment, both are silent.

Colin becomes solemn, and says genuinely, "Look, Bigby. I heard about Snow."

Bigby averts his eyes and stays quiet.

"I know how you felt about her, man. I just... I just wanna say I'm really sorry that happened to her, and that if you need to talk to someone, I'm here."

The human wolf narrows his big brown eyes a bit, and says, "Uh... Thanks."

"No problem; that's what friends are for." Colin responds with a smile.

Bigby smiles a little for the pig. "Alright, well, I have to get downstairs now. I have an interrogation to hold."

"Good luck with that. Oh, wait, before you go, do you got a smoke?"

Bigby doesn't answer. Instead, he closes the door behind himself on his way out, and immediately after doing so, his feigned smile disappears. From his pocket he pulls his empty Huff &amp; Puff box, and he stares at it in silent misery for a few seconds before crushing it in his hand and shoving it back into his pocket.

* * *

Woodsman quietly sits in the chair he is tied to, watching Bluebeard clean and otherwise fondle the curved knife. The air around them is very tense, and it becomes worse when they hear someone approaching the door.

The door opens, and in walks Ichabod Crane. "Bluebeard!" He immediately scolds, "What are you doing with that knife? I told you to wait until I got here to do anything!"

"Oh, don't worry, I haven't done anything. Yet."

"Where's the Sheriff?" Crane asks.

"Hell if I know. Now, shall we proceed with the questioning?"

Crane, albeit seeming uncomfortable, agrees.

Bluebeard leans forward, a hand on the back of the chair, and asks, "Now, what do you know about the murder of Ms. Snow White?"

"I don't know anything." Woodsman responds bluntly.

Bluebeard presses the knife against Woodsman's throat. "I'll ask you again, and this time I suggest you think about your answer before you say it. What do you know about the murder of Ms. Snow White?"

"I told you already, I don't know a thing!"

With this, Bluebeard begins the beating stage of his interrogation. Crane watches apathetically.

When Bigby walks in, however, Crane takes a sick level of satisfaction in the horrified expression that appears on the Sheriff's face.  
"What are you _doing?!_" Bigby shouts at Bluebeard. "_Stop_ that!"

Bluebeard stops and spins around, marching toward Bigby. "Ah, there's our dear Sheriff now! Always _fashionably_ late, wouldn't you say?"

Bigby shoves Bluebeard out of the way and kneels in front of Woodsman. "Woody? Woody, come on, lift your head. Let me see how bad it is."

Bluebeard frowns intensely. "So, what, are you just going to adopt him into your pack as though he's some sort of unlovable, abandoned mutt like you?"

"Hey, don't say shit like that." Woodsman snaps back gruffly.

"Or else what? Are you gonna rip me open from neck to navel with your axe? Or do you reserve that only for _playtimes_ with your beloved little '_Big Bad Wolf_'?"

"You'd better shut your fucking mouth, Bluebeard." Bigby growls. It is at this point that Woodsman realizes that the Sheriff is secretly starting to undo the restraint on his right wrist.

"Come on, then. Get up and fight me, tough guy."

Bigby stands. He turns around and lunges at Bluebeard, murder written in his eyes. Crane watches them fight, but soon turns his head in time to see Woodsman undoing his last restraint on his own.  
"Oh, no." is all the Deputy Mayor says as he tries to backup and melt into a wall, only to find himself physically unable to do the latter.

Bluebeard backhands Bigby hard enough to send him stumbling against the bed in the corner of the room. He walks briskly over and grabs the Sheriff by his auburn hair, tugging him up a bit at an awkward angle.  
"Come on, Wolf; don't fight your instincts. Show us what kind of person you really are."

Bigby reaches up, accidentally scraping his lengthening nails against Bluebeard's pale arm while grabbing it. His bagged eyelids are beginning to blacken, as he was already quite stressed even before this bullshit.

"Bluebeard, stop!" Crane shouts nervously. "You've done more than enough!"

"No such th-" Before he can finish his arrogant remark, Bluebeard is punched across the face by Woodsman, who has just moments ago freed himself of his restraints. The rich ex-lady-beheader releases Bigby's hair and reels backwards simply from the surprise of the blow.

Bigby sits up and snarls loudly at Bluebeard, glaring at him with piercing yellow eyes.

"Wolf, wait." Woodsman says, causing the glowing golden eyes to shift over to stare at him. "I think this interrogation is over until further notice?" Woodsman questions aloud while staring hard at Crane.

Crane, huddled up in the corner like the coward he is, nods.

Bluebeard quietly lets Bigby and Woodsman leave, not wanting to continue the fight... at least, not just yet.

"Jesus Christ, Bluebeard. You could have got both of killed!" Crane complains.

Bluebeard remains silent.


	3. Small Talk

The Woodsman basically drags Sheriff Bigby Wolf into the Woodlands' elevator, pressing the button labelled "M" in the process. They both stand still in the center of the tile beneath them until the doors close, at which point Bigby takes a step back and leans against the back-most wall.

"Wolf..." Woodsman sighs.

"**Where are we going...?**" The Big Bad Wolf huffs somewhat, trying to seem stable when he clearly isn't.

"Which apartment are you in?"

Although finding himself somewhat confused by the question, Bigby gruffly replies, "**204.**"

"Second floor, then?"

"**Yeah...**"

"_Shit_."

When the elevator doors opened on the main floor, Woodsman quickly slapped the button labelled "2", but the doors remain open for what feels like an eternity. During this time, Bigby tries to stand naturally. Woodsman can't help but glance down at the wolf, who stands no taller than 5-foot-6-ish. He discovers that despite the wolf's human posture, his eyes are still a vibrant gold color, which is only accentuated by the blackening of his eyelids.

The doors finally close, and Woody takes his eyes off of Bigby.

"**... Why did you stand up for me?**"

Woodsman looks back down at Bigby. "What's that?"

"**Down there... Why'd you help me? You could've run.**"

"Running wouldn't have made anything easier for me, would it? You guys would be chasing me down right about now if I'd fled."

Bigby turns his head down to the floor and smirks. "**Heh, that's probably true.**"

The elevator stops on the second floor, and slowly the doors open. Bigby reluctantly leads the way to his apartment, not entirely sure right now how arresting Woodsman turned into inviting Woodsman into his home but also not caring.

After digging his keys out of his pocket, Bigby opens the door to apartment 204 and walks in, followed closely by Woodsman.

"**Sorry,**" the Wolf mumbles, "**It's not very presentable. I wasn't expecting to have guests.**"

"Eh, you don't know the half of it. It's still better than my place." Woodsman responds lightly.

Chuckling a bit, Bigby takes a moment to glance up at Woodsman. His eyes have gone back to normal, but the same cannot be said about his darkened eyelids. Speaking of eyes, the two Fables find theirs locked, and Bigby's chuckles stop.  
There's something in the air that neither of them can put a name to.

Before either male can think any more of it, Woodsman hears tiny, clomping hooves on the wooden floor behind Bigby, and looks down.

"Whoa, hey," the pig beneath them remarks almost sarcastically, "You brought someone over. Bet you shared your cigarettes with _him_."

Bigby, who up until now was still staring at Woodsman, looks down at the pig with a look of contempt on his face. "**Shut up, Collin.**"

Collin clomps over to Woodsman, looking up at the tall male and raising his right hoof almost as if gesturing for a handshake. "I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. I'm Collin. The Big Bad Wolf tried to eat my brothers and I once."

Woodsman was bending down to shake Collin's hoof, but stopped when he heard Bigby huff again.

"**Don't fucking bother. This pig's nothing but trouble.**" The Wolf grumbles as he walks into the kitchen. "**Want a drink?**"

Collin turns toward the kitchen. "Sure, I'd love one."

"**Not you, _jackass_.**" Bigby snarls at the pig despite looking at Woodsman. He opens the fridge, quietly waiting for a response from his "invited" guest.

"... Sure, why not." Woodsman answers with a shrug.

After about fifteen minutes, Bigby and Woodsman are sitting at the Sheriff's cluttered desk with a green, half-empty bottle of beer on the table between them. The only one of them still using a cup is Collin, who was finally allowed to have a drink so long as he promised to stay quiet for a while.

Watching Bigby take a swig of alcohol, Woodsman suddenly can't help but smirk and shake his head.  
"Should you really be drinking this early, Wolf?" He asks, somewhat slurred from a faint haze of oncoming drunken-ness.

Bigby, now completely back to normal if one ignores the exhaustion on his face, passes the bottle to his guest, who also chugs down a gulp of the cheap brew. Unlike Woodsman, Bigby is not affected by the booze other than the way it helps him cope with stress.  
"Should _you?_" The Wolf counters cheekily.

Woodsman laughs a bit at the counter, and in response, Bigby cracks a small smirk himself and takes another long swig. When he puts the bottle back down, he notices that Woodsman's staring at him again, and he feels a twinge of nervousness in his chest.

"... What is it?" He quietly wonders aloud.

"Y'know, technically, we just kissed."

Now intrigued in the conversation, Collin stops licking up his beer and looks over at the two Fables sitting at the table.

Noticing the shocked look on Bigby's face, Woodsman clears his throat.  
"N-... N-nevermind. Just a silly observation. Since we're drinking from the same bottle like this. Yeah."

Bigby finally manages to tear his face away, opting to instead stare at his chair. He can feel his face begin to betray him due to the sheer surprise of something he'd have never even thought about.

"Sorry, Wolf. I get stupid when I get drunk."

"No, it's... It's fine. You just caught me off-guard, that's all."

Surprisingly, even Collin recognizes the awkward tension in the air, but he doesn't say anything about it.

A minute or two goes by, and as he scratches his bald head, Woodsman finally dares to speak.  
"Uh, hey... Bigby...?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering... You wanna maybe..." Woodsman shrugs as he talks. "... I dunno, meet me for breakfast tomorrow at the Eggman Diner?"

Bigby pauses before he manages to snicker a bit. "_You?_ Waking up _early_ to take _me_ to some _shitty diner?_"

Woodsman cringes, realizing he's probably being denied, but...

"Honestly, in any other situation, I might just knock you flat for asking something like that. But right now... I guess I'd like that."

The bearded man looks up. "Really? You're accepting?"

"Sure. What's the worst that could happen?"

The two proceed to have an awkward conversation, and before Bigby knows it, Woodsman has left. He closes the door with an anxious sigh, almost forgetting that he's not alone yet.

"_Ooh la la~._" Collin then purrs. "Looks like the Big Bad Wolf's got himself some sort of date tomorrow."

"_Shut_ up."

* * *

_"Here's the Glamour. You're going to be able to pay me for it, right?"_

Ichabod Crane walks into his office, the illegal Glamour charm in his hand. He has a big decision to make: who does he want to make his _new Snow White?_

_"Of course, Ms. Greenleaf."_

It occurs to him that he could recruit a whore from The Puddin' N' Pie for the role, but then again, seeing as Snow is gone for good, he realizes he needs someone who can not only satisfy him intimately, but also someone who he can gaze at in the office. The person needs to have talent, to belong in the Woodlands' work environment.  
Someone who knows a lot about Snow, and how to be her.

_"Good. I'll stick you to that, then, and hope you're smart enough to know that if you try to swindle me, I'll find you and make you pay."_

The cowardly Deputy Mayor is pulling up blanks until he notices that he's not alone in the office. Turning his head, he sees the Sheriff standing in front of the Magic Mirror. Realizing he somehow hasn't been seen yet, Ichabod silently watches the human wolf.

_"Who exactly will this Glamour work on? I don't mean to be skeptical, but I hope you understand that I must take precautions with this black market stuff."_

As he watches, Bigby musses up his own hair. The Sheriff then lifts the back of his auburn-ish hair and forms it into a makeshift bun with his hands.

_"You can expect nothing but the best from me. It should work on virtually _any_ Fable."_

_"_Any?_"_

_"_Give or take._"_

Crane blinks, stunned. Is he really seeing this? Is he really seeing the Big Bad Wolf staring at a mirror, trying to make his hair more feminine?  
Then, it hits him like a train.

'_He's trying to make his hair look like Snow White's..._'

In that moment, in an unlikely twist of events, everything clicks into place for Crane.  
Bigby knows a lot about Snow.  
Bigby (more-or-less) belongs in this environment.  
Bigby, dare anyone admit it, has talent.  
Bigby pines deeply for Snow.  
Crane smirks maliciously, hiding the Glamour charm behind his back. Slowly, he approaches the wolf.

When Bigby catches a glimpse of Crane in the mirror, he quickly drops his hair and turns around. "Crane..."

"Hello, Sheriff. May I ask what you're doing?"

"Uh," Bigby, flustered, stammers.

"Oh, whatever. It was cute, whatever it was."

Bigby's brow knots up in uncertainty from hearing that word being used to describe him.

"Sheriff, I have something I need to say. An _offer_."

"What is it?" The wolf crosses his arms impatiently. He still looks exhausted, and apparently has yet to notice that he forgot to correct the strand of hair still sticking out from his quick mockery of Snow's hairstyle.

With a small grin, Crane reaches up and pushes the strand back into place, noting how Bigby flinches.  
"Bigby... What if I told you that you're the only one who can help me bring Snow White back from the grave?"


	4. Whose Side Are You On?

It's nine in the morning in the section of New York City privately dubbed Fabletown, and The Woodsman is awkwardly sitting at a table inside the Eggman Diner. He waits here, stepping a tad out of his comfort zone, for Sheriff Bigby Wolf. However, he had expected the wolf to be early, and he now wonders if perhaps he's being stood up.

Five long minutes pass, and Woodsman is about ready to leave. Before he can stand, though, someone rushes over and sits across from him.

"Ugh, sorry I'm late." says Bigby, who now sits at the other side of Woodsman's table, apologetically. "I had some business I had to deal with at the Woodlands all night."

Woodsman raises a bushy brow. "So I take it you didn't sleep, then?"

The wolf in a human-like skin shrugs casually.

"That sucks."

"Do I still look tired?" Bigby asks jokingly. "Never mind my hectic schedule. I'm here now."

Woodsman smirks. "I'm glad about that. Thought for a minute there that you were standing me up, Wolf."

"I'd never do that, Woody..." The Wolf replies with a bittersweet half-smile.

The Fables smile at each other for a moment before Bigby turns his head. When he does so, the collar of his eggshell dress shirt doesn't follow since it's so loose, and Woodsman notices that he appears to have a fresh bruise on the crook of his shoulder. Letting his green eyes move slowly from the bruise up Bigby's neck, he discovers that there's another bruise, this one located at the edge of the wolf's hairline. Seeing as both are rather obscured by hair and cloth, Woodsman decides not to say anything.

Bigby looks back at Woodsman. "Are you going to order something?" He asks.

Something in Woodsman has to take a moment to recoil. He's about to have a peaceful breakfast with the old wolf he split open from neck to navel a few centuries ago. Something about this situation makes Woodsman laugh a bit.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, it's just... It's funny. We're supposed to hate each other."

Bigby shrugs, wringing his hands on the table. "Well, we _are_ all supposed to have a _fresh start_ here..."

"I guess that's true."

After ordering, the pair sit in awkward silence. Neither of them really knows what to say.

"... Bigby?"

"Yeah, Woody?"

"If you don't mind me asking, what are those bruises on your neck from? I don't remember those from yesterday."

Hearing the bruises brought up, Bigby's big brown eyes widen somewhat and he looks down at the table.

"... You don't need to say anything about it if you don't want to."

'_It's not that I don't want to..._' Bigby thinks, '_It's that I don't think you'd _understand_..._'  
The previous night, how Crane had responded to his initial refusal of the Deputy Mayor's insane "offer", floods back into Bigby's mind as he sips a cup of coffee with his eyes closed. He had been given the option to either play along or get out, and resigning wasn't something he really wanted to do, despite the fact that his only reason for trying to appear human was now a beheaded corpse.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Bigby looks up at him again. "No, no, it's fine... It's good to hear someone express some sort of concern for my well-being for once." He manages to say as he scratches his dark stubble.  
He's got a big night tonight. Having a sour time with Woodsman won't help him cope, so he tries his best to seem happy throughout the rest of the breakfast... or, at least, as happy as he could seem without appearing desperate.

When the cheque is brought to their table, Bigby reaches for his back pocket to pull out his wallet, but stops when Woodsman holds out his hand.

"Keep the change." Woody says as he hands the money to the waitress that brought them the bill. She smiles a bit, thanks him, and swiftly walks away.

"You're really fine with paying? I mean, let's face it, Woody; you're less well-off than even me."

Woodsman shakes his head. "It's fine. I'll manage."

"You sure? I could pay you back..."

"Really, Bigby." Woodsman adds with a smile, "You don't need to pay me. This was my idea, anyway, so it only makes sense for it to be on me."

Bigby slowly relaxes, nodding his gratitude. When he and Woodsman leave the diner headed in opposite directions, the more the distance between them grows, the more uncomfortable the Sheriff of Fabletown feels.

After all, every step away from The Woodsman is just another step closer to Ichabod Crane.

* * *

That night, in Woodland Luxury Apartment 204, Bigby Wolf stares at himself in his bathroom mirror. On the sink, beside his hands which clutch the edges of the surface, sits a little blue bag with white snowflakes; a makeup bag that Bigby presumes once belonged to Snow White. Crane had given it to him, but the wolf still isn't sure if it's fake or if Crane had actually stolen it from Snow's belongings.

Bigby gulps. He can't help it. This is dangerous territory, and he's lunging right into it.  
'_Not like I have much of a choice in the matter..._' He thinks in his own defense.

With shaky hands, Bigby opens the makeup bag. It smells like Snow, he observes vacantly.  
Inside the small bag, at the very top, is a small wooden charm.  
'_This must be the Glamour... _God_, I've never used one of these before._'  
He will admit that he's nervous about using the Glamour, so he sets it aside. Last thing he needs is for it to accidentally trigger his normal form instead of merely changing his human appearance.

After struggling to dig through the bag for a couple of seconds, Bigby decides to just dump it all into the sink, since nothing inside is small enough to fall down the drain. He isn't entirely sure how to use any of this stuff, but Crane had already reminded him time and time again that the Glamour would only change his body, not his other additions such as clothes and makeup. These would have to be done manually.

Bigby focuses his eyes onto the reflection of the clothes folded onto the towel rack; Snow's red shirt and black blazer.

'_I can't believe I'm doing this. This is so wrong._'

He picks up the bottle of perfume.  
'_Christ, I have to drench myself in this, don't I? My senses are going to drive me absolutely batshit._'

First, though, Bigby decides to use the tube of mascara. He unscrews the lid on one end, revealing the brush, and awkwardly tries his best to put the mascara on his left eye. When he's finished, he takes a good look at himself, comparing his normal eye to the one bolded by the thickened lashes.

'_I look like a fucking idiot._' He thinks cynically before glancing at the Glamour. '_This isn't going to work... I'd be able to better recreate Snow if I was able to apply the makeup to her face..._'  
Reaching for and taking hold of the Glamour, Bigby feels bad. He shouldn't want to recreate Snow White. He shouldn't want to help Crane. But... he can relate. He misses Snow. He wants to see her; to pretend she's not dead.

He has _no choice_.

* * *

Ichabod Crane sits quietly at his desk, trying to seem preoccupied when really he's doing nothing.  
It's getting late, and there's no sign of Sheriff Wolf.

'_Where is he? I told that stupid, insolent wolf to be here twenty minutes ago. So help me God, if he skips out on me, I will personally throw him down the goddamned Witching W-_'

"Crane?"

The voice makes Crane's train of thought stop. The voice of Snow White calling his name has filled his ears, and with the proceeding sound of familiar high-heeled footsteps, he looks up.

Standing before him, rather meek in her posture, is Snow White. She looks just as beautiful as ever, if not more-so with her inverted color scheme.

"Oh..." Crane stumbles on words, his breath caught in his chest as he stands. "Oh, _my_... You... You've done a great job with utilizing that Glamour..."

Snow shrugs. "I tried..."

Crane lets his eyes look his assistant over from head to toe.  
'_My God... That curve. Perhaps that witch deserves a little more credit for her skills._' It isn't until Snow's posture changes and her arms cross over her chest that Crane remembers he's talking to nothing more than a Glamoured Bigby Wolf.

Suddenly, the Deputy Mayor has a dastardly idea.  
'_Hmm... Sheriff Wolf doesn't know whether or not Snow and I were in a relationship... I might still be able to make this work both ways with him._'

As if sensing that something is up, Snow reluctantly looks at Crane.

"Sheriff Wolf?"

"Yes?" Snow replies in her smooth, feminine voice.

"I'm going to confess something to you... You must promise to keep it a secret."

"Depends what that confession _is_." Even with the voice of Snow White, Bigby still manages to keep the razors in his tone.

"It's probably going to be really alarming, heh heh... but, it's also something I need you to act on if you're going to perfect the persona of our _beloved_ Snow White."

Snow narrows her eyes. "This isn't permanent, is it?"

Ignoring the question, Crane continues. "Snow and I... Well, we... We had a more _intimate_ relationship than you might think."  
Out of the corner of his eyes, Crane watches as Snow's white flesh pales further, and gets a sick sense of satisfaction watching her facial expression become nearly desolate.

The Deputy Mayor keeps going. "Every night, she and I would rendezvous to-"

"You're lying."

"What's that?"

"You're... You're lying. Snow _hated_ you, Crane."

Crane lets out a hearty laugh. "Oh, you know how women are: _difficult_. Besides, she had to give off that sort of opinion to make sure our nightly love-making remained secret."

Bigby feels as though he may be sick. It couldn't be true. Snow would have smelled like Crane at least once if that was the case.  
But... there were times when she always smelled like Crane, simply because she was with him all day... Alone in the office...  
Alone with Crane, somewhere more or less private.  
Bigby blinks rapidly. Due to having smaller tear ducts, he finds himself now blinking back tears.

Crane steps closer to the Glamoured Fable and runs his fingers through the dark blue hair before him.  
"Come now. It's not _all_ _that_ bad."

Snow shakes her head. Her voice and lips quivering, she mumbles, "You're _sick_. I'm not going to fuck you, Crane."

"You're right, you're not." Crane leans in close, and into Snow's ear, he huskily whispers, "_I'm_ going to fuck _you_."

"What happens if I refuse to let you do that?" Snow demands quietly.

"Then we arrest The Woodsman and throw him down the Witching Well for murdering Snow White, whether he did it or not."

It all comes down to a split-second decision.


End file.
